


Christmas By any Other Name

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya's hurt and THRUSH is on the hunt.  What's a little cat and her friends to do?  Quite a bit, thankfully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas By any Other Name

I had just finished a late dinner and was cleaning up.  Cleanliness marked a cat as to whether she was refined or feral.  I was very refined.  Granted I still like a trip to the wild side of my nature, for the most part, I was happy to take whatever scrapes were tipped into my plate by our caregiver.

I stretched out onto my side and lazily licked my front paw, extending my claws to make sure they were trimmed and proper.  For some reason, Mamma really likes to watch when I do that.  She was sitting in her rocking chair by fire knitting and staring at the Christmas tree.  It wasn’t a great huge tree, but it was lovely and ours.  I loved it twice as much for that reason.  Papa was dozing.  

Outside the wind was blowing up a great storm of snow and ice, but we were inside, warm and comfortable.  A sense of gentle peace descended over the room

Milky suddenly burst onto the scene as was his way and I jumped up, fuzzing to twice my normal size.  Mamma laughed and Papa didn’t even wake up.

“Gray, Gray, Gray, you have to come.”  Then he stopped and looked over his shoulder as if mystified by my actions.  “What’s wrong?”

“You!  You scared me.”  I boxed his ears and he plopped over onto his back, an act of pure submissiveness.  Milky was a lover, not a fighter.

“Sorry, but you have to come.”

“Where?”  I was in no hurry to leave the comfort of my spot by the hearth.  “Why?”

“There’s something in the barn.  Sigmund sent me.”

“So?”

“It’s a human and it’s leaking.”

“What?”  I got to my feet, stretched and followed him out through the small cat door, into the woodshed to the barn.  

The stink hit me before I got a few feet into the barn.  It was metallic and nasty smelling.   The lanterns Mamma and Papa lit to keep the barn warmer in this bitter weather made the shadows jump and dance.

The cows, silly animals that they were, barely gave me more than a casual look as I passed.   Sigmund, our dog and protector, was sitting by a still form.  

“Oh, thank the Master you are here, Gray.” Sigmund’s tail thumped a welcome.   I don’t know why everyone thought I was brains of our little band, but I accepted their trust and the burden.

“What do you have?” I asked and Sigmund stepped aside.  

There was a still form half buried in the hay.  The smell was coming from him and I saw something dark and sticky looking on his shirt.  His face was bruised and bleeding as well.  He’d been in some sort of massive fight and I think he lost.

“It’s hurt.”  Chloe was our draft horse.  She was as sweet as the day is long, but not very bright.  Strong, willing and gentle, but not a thinker, rather like our cows.

“I can see that,” I said, moving closer.  Amid the stink of blood, there was something else and I sniffed at his pants.  “There’s something else as well.”

Milky was right beside me and nuzzle the human’s pants leg.  “It‘s cat hair.”

“It is.”  I smiled and purred.  “He’s a caregiver.  From the smell, he has several charges.”

“That means we have to take care of him,” Milky announced gravely.  “For their sakes.”

“The runt is right,” Sigmund murmured softly to me.  Milky bristled slightly, but didn’t argue.  He was, after all, the runt of his litter.  What he lacked in size, he made up for in heart.  “We have an obligation.”

“I will get the mistress.  Surely she can help.”  I started back out of the barn and then froze.  A car, a nasty evil car, roared up the narrow lane leading to our house.  It was driving at a speed that was unwise at this time of year.  If an animal strayed out, the demons wouldn’t have been able to stop, but I had a feeling in my stomach that it wasn’t something that bothered them.

I crouched in the shadows and watched as the car stopped in front of our warm and inviting cottage.  Men emerged from it and my eyes narrowed.  I caught the scent of sweat and anger and something else, the same smell that surrounded our visitor.  His smell.  I knew in an instant that they had done this to him and they weren’t finished.  They’d come to kill him.  They marched up to the door and began to pound on it.

A growl from above me told me Sigmund was there and he didn’t like what we was seeing.

“What do we do?” I asked.

“Protect.  You protect them and I will protect our family.”  And he was gone.  

I turned back to the others.  “We have to hide him.”

Immediately, Bumpkin, our nanny goat, began to scuff at the floor, trying to obliterate the blood trail the best that she could.  Chloe walked to the front door and began to urinate as she returned back to us.  Smelly, but effective, she washed away the blood as effectively as if she’d taken water and mop to it.

“What do we do about hiding him?  He can’t move.”  Bumpkin looked anxiously back at the lump.  

A huge shape passed in front of a lantern.  It was Bartholomew, our massive bull.  He looked truly frightening, but the truth was that he had the heart of a kitten, sweet and playful.  He lumbered back to where the human lay and settled down beside him, taking care not to crush him.

“Bartholomew, you are a genius,” I said with genuine pride.  From how he was positioned, it looked as if only wall was behind him.  And who was going to argue with a one ton bull.

“Thank you.”  He dipped his head to me and returned to chew his cud.

I could hear Sigmund barking, then there was a terrible noise and Sigmund cried out.  I gasped and took a step towards the door, but stopped.  If they had stopped Sigmund, I would be of little consequence to them.  They would trample me into the floor.

“Stop, Gray, let them come to us.”  Milky’s voice was soft, but hard as the frozen ground.  “We can’t fight them in there, but we can here.  This is our element.”  

This was the first time Milky sounded like a tom cat and I was proud of him.  “I agree.  We protect.”

Milky looked around at the animals assembled in our small barn.  “Together?”

“Together!” was the bleat, moo, cluck, neigh, honk, and meow.  We hunkered down and we waited.

It didn’t take long.  We heard them long before they burst into the barn and stopped at the sight before them.   

“Where do you think he is?” A tall human waved a rifle around, but the only one who made a fuss were the chickens.  They fluttered and squawked flapping their wings loudly.   “Damn chicken.”  He pulled out something and a shot rang out.  Thankfully he wasn’t much of a marksman and missed.  He scowled and put the gun away.  Find him.”

“What if we can’t?” A second man asked

“Then we’ll burn it down.”

“What about the animals?”  At least one of them seemed to have a conscience.

“To hell with them.”

“All right.”  He slapped his hands together, obviously excited at the prospect.   So much for conscience, I didn’t regret anything that happened to any of them.

Two others joined them.  “I didn’t see anyone in the house.  If he’s here, he’s in here.”

“Search the place.”

They did as well as we’d let them.  One of them tried to kick Milky, but he was too fast for that.  He darted under a crate and glared at them with angry green eyes. 

“I don’t see him, boss.”  It was the second man again.  He had a lighter in his hand.  “Torch it?”

“Do it.  And do the house next.”

“What about the old man?  And the woman.”

“It’s the price they pay for not helping us.”

“Now!  For Sigmund!” I shouted and we reigned down our vengeance upon them.  

Chloe’s hoof took out one man before he even had a chance to respond, his face smashed.   It was not a pretty sight.  

Bumpkin charged the man with the lighter and slammed him against a wall where Sally, our sloe-eyed Jersey proceeded to gore him.  

I launched myself at the leader, my claws digging deep into his flesh.  He screamed and tried to pull me free, but Milky attached himself to the man’s legs, biting again and again, our anger feeding our blood lust.  

The last man ran for the door, screaming as if a devil was after him and took off into the night.  After abusing them a bit further, we allowed the two left behind to collect their fallen companion and drag themselves away to the car.

There was a second vehicle beside the first.  We’d not even heard it arrive and the men stopped.  They looked rather pathetic, bleeding and torn, standing there with their hands in the air.  

I heard a noise.  It came from the human Bartholomew was protecting.  

“Napoleon,” he murmured over and over again.  He seemed to have become more aware of his surroundings probably because of all the noise the men made.

“What do you want us to do with these, Napoleon?” It was a man from the second car.  

“Take them away.  We’ll get them medical help... eventually.  I’m going to see if I can do anything for their victims.”  He nodded to the house.

“Keep a look out,” I told Milky and was gone, hurrying thought the woodshed to the kitchen.

Mamma was sitting and holding a cloth to Sigmund, who was whining and licking her hand.  Papa looked like he’d been beaten and I wanted to hurt those brutes all over again.  Beyond them, I could see our little tree, smashed and trampled.  The one called Napoleon appeared in the doorway.

“Sir, Ma’am, are you okay?”

“We are alive.”  Mama petted Sigmund and then kissed his head.  “All of us.”

The man knelt and offered a hand to Sigmund to sniff before caressing his head.  “Good dog.  Brave dog.  Not many could have taken on THRUSH and done a better job.”

Then I knew he was a good man and I approached him, rubbing against his ankles.  “Napoleon,” I said, although it came out much altered.  “Napoleon,” I said again.

“Hello, puss.”  He looked over at me with a sad smile.  “You probably smell Illya on me.”

“Who’s Illya?” Papa asked.

“My partner.  He loves cats.  Those men had him captive, but he managed to escape.  We followed them here, hoping to find them, but I am afraid he’s lost in that storm out there.”

I head butted him and chirped his name again and again.

“That’s odd.  Gray doesn’t warm to people like this,” Papa said, moving a cloth from his mouth to his eye.  “It’s like she’s trying to talk to you.”

Napoleon held out his hand to pet me and I took a step away, then meowed his name again.  

“I can’t pet you if you move away, puss.”

“Her name is Gray.”

“Can I pet you, Gray?” Napoleon asked and I retreated another step, then beseeched him again.

“This is very strange.”  Mamma stood and came near, but I moved away from her as well, one step closer to the barn.  “What is it, Gray?”  I gave her my best plaintive meow and walked a few more steps.  I don’t think I could have made it more plainly that they needed to follow me.  These were the times when I wish they were smart enough to know our language.

It seemed to take forever, but I finally got them to the barn.  Seeing Mamma and Papa with Napoleon calmed any nerves that my animal friends might have had.  I walked over to Bartholomew and gave his nose a kiss.

“Bartholomew, please move.”

Bartholomew got to his feet and shuffled back to his stall and Papa gasped.  “There’s someone… there!”

“Oh, my god, it’s Illya.”  Napoleon fell to his knees and I smiled at my compatriots.  We had done a good night’s deed.  I was sure of it.

 

                                                                                ****

 

It was certainly the most excitement I’d had in a long time and I looked forward to a long stretch of quiet.  However, Christmas was nearly upon us and that would be a stream of relatives and friends.  We put our tree to rights, repaired what we could and reluctantly threw the rest out.  It was sad, but we were alive and that was all that matter.

 I was curled up beside Sigmund on his bed, occasionally licking his face or paw.  

“You were so brave,” I purred.  “I was so proud of you.”

“So were you.  All of you.”  His voice was still a little weak, but he was much better.

“We did it for you.”  I rubbed my cheek against him and he grumbled.

“Silly cat.”

“Arrogant dog.”  It was a game we often played.

There was a knock at the door and Papa stood slowly.  He was still recovering from his beating as well.  He opened the door and spoke quietly with our visitors, then led them in.

I chirped happily when I saw Napoleon and then I saw his companion.  It was the man from the barn.  I’d since learned that his name was Illya and he had been hurt escaping from very bad men.  He had his arm in a sling and he looked very tired, but he was on the mend, just like my beloved Sigmund.

Looking around the room, he spotted me and walked slowly over.  He knelt slowly in front of me and held out a hand.  I sniffed his fingers and wrinkled my nose.  It smell like Mamma’s washday bucket, but I still rubbed against them and chirped.

“I understand I have you two to thank for my rescue, as well as a host of others.”  He looked over his shoulder and Napoleon handed him something.  He set a package down in front of me and another one in front of Sigmund.   A tempting smell came from mine – mint of the cat, oh, this was usually a treat reserved for the summer when it grew wild in the garden.  I began to rub against my package and drew it to me, happily intoxicated by the smell.

“To thank you for your service to UNCLE, we have made a small deposit into your bank account.  It should be enough to cover your feed and groceries for the winter,” Napoleon said as Sigmund claimed his own gift and tore the wrappings away to get to the meaty bone inside.

“That’s not necessary,” Mamma protested, but I could see tears of gratitude in her eyes.  Things were always hard for us in the winter and this would make it easier.

“It is.”  I saw Napoleon’s free hand resting on Illya’s shoulder give it a gentle squeeze and my heart sang.

The purr erupted from the tip of my tail and grew.  As long as there was such kindness in the world, everything was perfect… especially when one had a catnip mouse at her feet, a steady and loving friend by her side and peace in her heart.  

 


End file.
